


come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine!

by heroofcanton



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, cuddles and chinese food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 19:39:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13301817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heroofcanton/pseuds/heroofcanton
Summary: After a failed protest, Enjolras is comforted against his stubborn judgement





	come on you stranger, you legend, you martyr, and shine!

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken unimaginatively from Pink Floyd's Shine on you crazy diamond, because I cannot come up with titles on my own and also I think it fits here, so.

Enjolras shuffled out of the bathroom, tugging his blanket behind him, annoyed. He couldn’t even make his blanket stay in its place. With a great sigh, he trudged over to his couch and slumped down into it.

He stared blankly at the empty coffee table, blinked, and then slowly turned his head towards the kitchen, where his cup of tea was still waiting for him. Whatever. It was probably cold, anyway.

He slid down the couch so that he was barely sitting on it, and the blanket wrinkled uncomfortably around him. He could feel one of his socks sliding halfway off his foot, his t-shirt was riding up and there was something sharp sticking into his sides.

Enjolras let out a frustrated groan, stood up and wrestled with the blanket. At the end, he just threw it down on the floor and then angrily pulled up the errant sock. He still felt awful, and he stared miserably at the heap by his feet.

There was a knocking on the door.

He ignored it.

The knocking persisted.

Enjolras glared at the door and crossed his arms across his chest.

 _‘Go away’_ he thought aggressively towards it.

The knocking stopped, and Enjolras blinked in surprise. He knew he didn’t have superpowers, but one could never _really_ be sure…

The thought didn’t even fully form in his mind when the knocking started up again. Enjolras sighed.

“Go away,” he said, out loud.

“Jesus Christ, open the door!”

Grantaire.

Figures. He couldn’t even let Enjolras sulk in peace.

“You’re not even Christian,” Enjolras shuffled over to the door and glared at it.

“You could let me in and tell me off to my face?”

Enjolras had to admit there was a certain appeal to that thought. He liked arguing with Grantaire face to face. He also liked talking to Grantaire face to face, and making him laugh and letting him braid his hair…

Which was precisely why Enjolras didn’t want his company. He didn’t deserve it. He fucked up the day before and he just wanted to die in peace. Why couldn’t Grantaire accept that and just show up to the funeral like a normal human being?

“Enj, come on. Please?”

Enjolras shuffled on his feet, his arms still stubbornly wrapped around his torso. Grantaire wouldn’t coddle him, he knew that. He wouldn’t lie and say nothing was wrong. But he would try and make Enjolras feel better, which he should not.

“I have some thoughts on that article you made us read. It’s so grossly wrong, I actually think you wrote it and-“

Grantaire was cut off when Enjolras opened the door just to glare at him face to face.

Enjolras kept glaring, even when Grantaire grinned at him. He opened his mouth to tell him again to go away, but then Grantaire held up a bag of what smelled like Chinese take-out and pushed into the apartment, ignoring Enjolras’ weak protest.

“I got take-out from that place Combeferre likes, because I know you like their soup, even though they don’t make the noodles like you like them, but I figured soup’s more comfort food…” Grantaire went on about the restaurant as he walked into the kitchen like he owned the place.

Enjolras stared after him and then shut the door, pointedly. He went back to his couch, hoping that Grantaire would see the cup of tea he’d made earlier and bring it to him.

He couldn’t hear what Grantaire was saying, but he could just hear that he was still talking, and it made him relax despite his best efforts. There was something so familiar and soothing about Grantaire’s voice, and Enjolras leaned his head on the couch, just listening.

“-and then I told him he’s a dick and he told me to go fuck myself, and I said, as long as it’s not you doing the fucking, I’ll be okay. Anyway, I’m not letting ‘Parnasse set me up again, he has awful taste in people. For me. For himself, his taste is impeccable. The man is dating Prouvaire, you don’t get better than that.”

Enjolras watched as Grantaire carried a tray full of Chinese food over to the coffee table. His tea mug was on it, as well, and Enjolras tuned Grantaire out completely as he grew overwhelmingly fond of the man.

He took the bowl of soup Grantaire handed to him without thinking, and tried to figure out what to do about the sudden urge to wrap Grantaire up in a hug. This was not the first time he wanted to do this, but it was the first time that he could. But there was soup in his hands.

Enjolras blinked down at the soup.

“I’m not hungry,” he blurted out, interrupting Grantaire.

“Just take a few bites, it’s still hot,” Grantaire shrugged, waving one of his hands vaguely.

It was still hot, and it was his favourite soup. Enjolras narrowed his eyes at Grantaire suspiciously, but still picked up the spoon and ate the damn soup. He knew it was all a conniving plot to get Enjolras to eat and feel better, and well. It was working. The soup was delicious. Grantaire went on talking about his awful dates and it made Enjolras feel all warm inside. Of course, some of that was the soup, but still.

It was nice, just sitting there, listening to Grantaire talk.

He finished his soup, and Grantaire handed him a plate of prawn noodles. Enjolras looked at the plate, and at the man offering it suspiciously, but Grantaire was in the middle of describing an encounter with a costumer and Enjolras wanted to hear the end, so he took the plate without complaining.

“…you know those suburban moms with the haircut and everything, she was so annoying. She was like, ‘I want to see the manager’,” Grantaire said, doing a voice and rolling his eyes. “And I call Irma over, and the woman, I swear to god, she almost exploded, she got so angry. She just yelled at Irma and she yelled at me and she was like, ‘God will punish you’ and not once did she say what she actually wanted! Eventually, she just – what. Why are you looking at me like that?”

Enjolras swallowed the noodles he just tried, and pointed his fork accusingly at Grantaire.

“These are not the noodles from Ferre’s place. _These_ are the noodles from the place across the town. The one where I like the noodles.” Enjolras stared at Grantaire, who had the decency to look caught out.

Oh, he tried to be nonchalant, but Enjolras knew him well enough to know when he was being sneaky and well-meaning and adorable.

“Yeah, I. It was on my way,” Grantaire shrugged.

Enjolras scoffed, indignant.

“Do not insult me. I know where you live, where that place is and where Ferre’s restaurant is, and none of those are on the way to here! You _,_ ” Enjolras stabbed his fork lightly at Grantaire’s chest, “ _you_ went insanely out of your way to make me feel better and I will not stand for this!”

Grantaire rolled his eyes, like Enjolras was the one being unreasonable.

“So the protest didn’t go the way you wanted it to! It happens, Enjolras. It doesn’t mean you have to hole yourself up in here, drinking cold tea and thinking everything bad in the world is your fault. Shit like that happens, Enj,” Grantaire’s voice went all soft and it did things to Enjolras.

Mainly things like wanting to bury his face into Grantaire’s soft hoodie and never emerge.

He huffed, instead, making his disapproval known.

“Did you heat up my tea?” he asked, and he refused to acknowledge his voice was sulky.

Grantaire was quiet.

Enjolras widened his eyes at him.

“Well, did you?”

“If I say yes, will you yell at me?”

“…no.”

“Liar.”

Enjolras glared at Grantaire.

“Thank you,” he said, and ate a forkful of noodles.

Grantaire’s smile was slow and soft.

As Enjolras ate, Grantaire rearranged himself on the couch, so that by the end of it, his arm was slung behind Enjolras’ head and he was sitting with his feet crossed on the coffee table. He looked very comfortable and relaxed.

When he was done with the noodles, Enjolras bent over to put the empty plate on the table, and then shuffled a bit so that when he sat back up, he was closer to Grantaire. He underestimated the distance a bit, though, and he ended up pressed up against his side.

He felt Grantaire freeze up and Enjolras shut his eyes in mortification, but then Grantaire wrapped his arm around his shoulders and kept on talking. Enjolras breathed out, and made himself more comfortable, pressing his head against Grantaire’s chest. He kept his eyes closed and just let Grantaire’s voice wash over him, now also feeling the humming vibrations when the man spoke.

Grantaire kept his stories interesting enough that Enjolras’ thoughts couldn’t stray away to more miserable pastures. He knew what Grantaire was doing, but he liked it. He was still angry with himself that he messed up with the protest, despite the warnings from various people beforehand. Well, mainly Grantaire. Éponine had expressed her concerns as well, and he fully expected an ‘I told you so’ from her.

Now that he thought about it, Grantaire hasn’t told him that he had told him so yet. What was that about? He opened his eyes and hummed quietly to get Grantaire’s attention.

“You can tell me you told me so, you know,” he said quietly into Grantaire’s chest.

There was a moment’s silence.

“I’m not gonna do that. And neither will anyone else.”

“I fucked up.”

“Yeah. It wasn’t ideal, but no one got hurt or arrested.”

“If I’d just-“

“Enj, don’t.” Grantaire’s other arm wrapped around him and he squeezed Enjolras briefly. “It was just a protest. You’ve managed dozens of successful ones, don’t beat yourself up about this one.”

“It was important,” Enjolras mumbled into his hoodie.

Grantaire hummed in reply.

“And you can learn from the mistakes you made. The next one-“

“What if I don’t ever get to organise another protest?” Enjolras interrupted, anxiety bubbling up in his chest. “What if no one will follow me anymore, because I fucked this one up? It won’t matter that the others went okay, they’ll just see this one and they won’t believe in me anymore, they won’t believe that what we do matters and just.” Enjolras swallowed, and then whispered, “What if I ruined everything?”

Grantaire’s chest moved as he took a deep breath, and Enjolras peered up at his face.

He was looking somewhere beyond Enjolras, and his mouth was pressed in a thin line. Then he looked down at Enjolras and his lips went soft with a smile.

“You didn’t ruin anything. People will still follow you, because they’re not irrational monsters who can’t see past one minor mistake. No, Enjolras please listen,” he said when Enjolras opened his mouth to protest. “Even if you wouldn’t organise protests anymore, you’d find something else to make corporations and evil overlords displeased with you. Yes, yesterday didn’t go as you planned, and yes, we have warned you against going through with it, but I know you’ll land on your feet and you won’t let this be the end of your revolutionary career.

‘You know the rest of the Amis wouldn’t just leave you all alone, right? They - _We_ will always be here, and we’d follow you anywhere. You’re not just a group leader, Enjolras, you’re our friend.”

Enjolras was silent as he took all of that in, and responded by burying his face in Grantaire’s chest, sneaking his arms around Grantaire.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, but it was sort of muffled.

“Any time,” came the reply.

Enjolras felt something settle against his head and a few moments later, he felt a kiss being pressed there. He smiled against Grantaire’s chest.

Eventually, he moved away, but only a little bit. He liked hugging Grantaire, and be hugged by him.

“I don’t think the mayor’s an evil overlord…” he said, smiling.

“Really, with the moustache?” Grantaire countered, surprised.

Enjolras laughed, and shrugged.

“The moustache is definitely evil.”

Grantaire hummed.

“Do you think it’s controlling him? Like the rat in Ratatouille, but like, not for culinary expertise, but for evil purposes?” Grantaire mused. “I honestly wouldn’t be surprised. There’s probably a society of moustaches out there who want to take over the world and they saw the opportunity in Rutherson.”

Grantaire went on like that, explaining his thoughts on how evil moustaches are going to rule the world one day, and how they’ve been planning it since the very first caveman shaved his facial hair and left his moustache. Enjolras listened to him, smiling to himself and he let exhaustion wash over him, and he closed his eyes for just one minute, just to rest for a moment…

 ***

 

Enjolras was so warm, and so incredibly comfortable and he wanted to stay that way forever, but his pillow was moving. That wouldn’t do. He tightened his grip on it, and hummed, satisfied, when it stilled.

He nuzzled his face into the softness of it and breathed in the lovely scent surrounding him. It wasn’t the usual scent of his linen. It smelled nicer…

“Oh, fuck,” his pillow breathed and Enjolras frowned.

He opened his eyes. Jerked his head up.

Yeah. Yep. He’d been asleep on Grantaire.

“Um,” he said. “Sorry.”

“No, god, it’s fine!” Grantaire shook his head.

Enjolras looked at him. Grantaire was flushed, looking back at him and once again, Enjolras felt overwhelmed.

“Why did you go to two different places just to bring me food?” he asked, quietly.

His brain was still fuzzy with sleep, and he felt disoriented, but it seemed important that he knew the answer to that question. Grantaire was important.

“Three, actually, there’s dessert,” Grantaire whispered. Immediately after, his eyes widened and he cringed.

He didn’t want Enjolras to know.

“Why?” Enjolras pressed.

“I. I wanted to do something nice for you.”

Enjolras nodded.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m. I think I’m going to do something now, and if you don’t want me to, please stop me.”

Enjolras waited until Grantaire nodded, and then moved closer to him. Grantaire didn’t move away, or protested. He leaned in even closer, until he felt Grantaire’s breath on his cheeks. Enjolras closed his eyes, prayed to any and every god in existence that he wasn’t wrong about this, and pressed his lips to Grantaire’s.

For a moment, they were both still and quiet. Then, Grantaire made a desperate noise against Enjolras’ lips and kissed back, his lips soft and pliant.

Enjolras moved above him, so that he had a better vantage point and he wrapped his arms around Grantaire’s waist, squeezing him. Kissing Grantaire was so lovely, and he never wanted to stop, and it seemed Grantaire had similar feelings.

Eventually, though, they had to break apart. Enjolras gave Grantaire’s lips one last peck and then rested his head on Grantaire’s shoulder. Underneath him, Grantaire was breathing fast. His hands stroked Enjolras’ back soothingly.

“Hey, R,” Enjolras whispered. “This wasn’t just to make me feel better, right?”

“No,” Grantaire replied, shaking his head. “No, I’ve wanted to do that for a while. It wasn’t just you saying thank you, right?”

There was a note of uncertainty in Grantaire’s voice that Enjolras never wanted to hear again.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while, too.”

“Oh, okay. Good.”

Enjolras smiled.

“You said there was dessert?” Enjolras remembered.

“Mmm-hm. Tiramisu.”

“I might just never let you go,” Enjolras said solemnly.

“Not even so I could get you more tiramisu?”

“We can order it in.”

“Deal.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think, please? <3


End file.
